


The Only Thing That Matters Is You

by ThatOneKinkyBitch



Category: GOT7
Genre: (more to be added) - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood, Bonnie and Clyde!AU, Dark, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Gun fights, Injury, Kinda, M/M, Married Couple, Nipple Play, Partners in Crime, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Jackson, Torture (Not the Kinky Kind), Torture (The Kinky Kind), True Love, Twisted, Violence, they just love each other so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 09:39:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneKinkyBitch/pseuds/ThatOneKinkyBitch
Summary: They're notorious, really, for their crimes. An unstoppable duo who take no prisoners--unless they, you know,do--and will be your worst nightmare if you cross them. They love each other more than anything else that could be on the planet, so when you mess with that dynamic, well...You should probably run.





	The Only Thing That Matters Is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll use some "feminine" adjectives to describe Mark sometimes, if only because I feel like in this story, he'd kind of embrace not being the more masculine of the two.

Gowns and suits and drinks and chatter and  _money_. That's how his night was going so far. Mind you, he knew that the minutes that dragged on would eventually lead to their goal, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy all of the people trying to make conversation with him.

Mark let his eyes drift along the moving bodies over the rim of his glass, looking to see if their target had let himself waltz in unannounced; no such luck. He was actually starting to grow quite annoyed with the constant glittering from the light bouncing of the chandeliers, and Mark couldn't help but think why one room needs so many fixtures of that size. All people care about it how much money they can show off to their colleagues, and it's frankly quite pathetic. But of course, he was always a sucker for when his husband would surprise him with a new piece of Harry Winston jewelry to adorn his "goddess-like features" as Jackson loved to call them.

"No need to look so excited, darling." A voice-- _Jackson's_ voice rumbled along his back and around the shell of his ear. It sent shivers down his spine and Jackson is  _rude_ for smirking,

"What can I say? After this I get you all to myself," Mark said, turning towards his partner. His fingers ran up Jackson's black dress shirt, tugging a little when his fingers tightened around the dark blue silk tie. "And I bought something the other day that I think you'll quite like." Jackson's pupils dilated, if only a little, and he leaned back down next to Mark's ear and--

"You best keep that promise, baby." They parted ways once again, making sure to mingle with the right people.

"Mr. Tuan." Mark turned on his heel to see his long-time friend standing there.

"Im Jaebum," he greeted, "long time no see." Jaebum was much more lax in how he took the "formal" dress code. His lavender dress shirt had the top three buttons undone, allowing his sharp collarbones to make a small appearance every now and then, black suit jacket fitting his toned form like a second skin. His dark brown hair was growing out and his roots were a pitch black, all quiffed back and exposing his forehead.

"You know how it is; the business keeps you busy." Ah yes, when you run a gang with your husband, it _can_ get quite busy.

"So, how's the other Mister?" Jaebum smiled at the question, letting his eyes drift to where Mark assumed Jinyoung was.

"Perfect, as he always is." Mark couldn't help but smile right back at the gang leader; until Jinyoung waltzed into his life with his fiery attitude and stubbornness, Jaebum was much too stoic for his own good, and the only way to get him to open up was to get several shots of vodka in him. And it was such a  _mess_ when Jaebum put those shots in himself, letting heart wrenching sobs into the night on Mark's doorstep about how he loved Jinyoung with every fibre in his being and the sobs got rougher and  _sadder_ when he went on about how he couldn't drag the younger down with him. 

But that's a story for another time; right now, Jaebum was turning to him with a smirk.

"And how's Jackson? Just as much trouble as normal, I assume?"

"He wouldn't  _be_ Jackson if he didn't wreak a little havoc every now and then." The leader nodded. He smiled politely as he bid Mark adieu before leaving him to continue on this social journey.

Mark grabbed another glass of champagne from the waiter passing by, taking a large sip to  _maybe_ make time fly a little faster.

 **"You gossiping about me, darling?"** Mark  _completely_ forgot that they had earpieces to talk to each other, and he jumped a little to show it.  **"God you're so cute _._ "**

"Fuck you," he said lowly, even though there was a small chuckle lacing the words.

 **"Later, baby, we discussed this,"** Mark stifled his laugh, looking around for their target.  **"You see him yet?"** Mark looked over the crowd, giving a small 'no' when he came up empty.

"I'm gonna try and look for him," is all Mark says before he weaves himself into the crowd with minimal effort.

**"Don't let anyone get handsy with you; you know that does to me."**

"Is that supposed to discourage me?"

**"I'll let you decide that one--"**

"Found 'im." Mark appreciates that Jackson goes quiet after that, but he expected nothing less; yes, they'll joke and flirt, but when it comes down to it, they have a mission in mind. He let his feet carry him to the man, clearing his mind of Jackson and Jaebum, and filling it with how exactly to bring this piece of scum to his end.

“Mr. Jorden Lesley,” Mark greets, raising putting his hand out for a shake.

“And who are _you_ , sweet thing?” He wanted to punch Lesley out right then and there for looking at him like some cut of meat, but didn’t let such thoughts show on his face; he could do much worse than punch him, soon enough.

“Just a curious fan; I’ve always wondered how you managed to save your company from bankruptcy.” Lesley’s eyebrow twitched, but that was all; no anger or surprise. He must’ve anticipated such questions.

“I simply rearranged the budget; put the money where it mattered.” Mark knew he was lying, and Jackson knew he was lying—the reason there was a small scoff from the earpiece—but Lesley seemed to think he had the upper hand here.

“You know, you took such _good_ control of your company,” Mark let his eyelids drop and a smile to grace his lips, “I’m _sure_ you could… take control of _me_ , no?”

 **“Oh, you’re _so_ getting it…”** Mark hid his smirk from Lesley and pulled the same move he had with Jackson’s tie.

“Unless, you don’t believe you could _handle_ me.” He let himself get dragged away from the gala discreetly and took in the beige hallways with golden sconces with weary eyes.

Good lord, did his dead grandma decorate this? No, that’s too offensive, _sorry, grandma_.

Mark repressed his bone-deep cringe when he was shoved against the wall and kissed with aggression--if you could even  _call it_ a kiss. There was too much teeth biting at his lips and his tongue felt downright disgusting and  _wrong_ as it made its way into Mark's mouth. Not to mention his hands were groping every inch of skin they could reach hard enough to leave bruises in their wake; it honestly took every ounce of his willpower to not puke all over Lesley.

“I’ve always thought it rude to touch other people’s things.” _Ah, thank god; Jackson, save me_. Mark filled his lungs with air that didn’t reek of expensive cologne as the man pulled away.

“I’m sorry, he’s your property? I didn’t realize we were back in the olden times.” Jackson gave Lesley a lethal glare as he approached him, shoulders squared and muscles flexed.

“The man you just _shoved to the wall_ is the man that I’ll proudly call my soulmate, as I’m sure he would’ve told you if you weren’t shoving your serpentine tongue down his throat.” Mark had to remind himself for a second that this was Jackson genuinely angry and that getting aroused probably wasn’t the best idea.

“Hey, your skank was the one to— _hrf_!” Oh, Jackson just kneed Lesley in the gut.

Yay strong boyfriends.

“You know you’re pretty ballsy for a man that has no accountability for his actions.” Jackson shoved him to the ground with a kick, keeping his foot there so Lesley had no chance of getting back up. “You call my husband a skank again and I’m going to make sure ‘ballsy’ can only be a figure of speech.”

Okay, forgive him, but how could Mark _not_ kiss Jackson right now? And the he seemed  _very_ happy to receive Mark's show of affection. 

He pulled back with a scowl, though, and said: “You taste like _him_.”

“You can change that later.” Mark amended and pressed a kiss to Jackson's cheek, before kneeling over Lesley's head. "We know how you made that money, Lesley."

"I have no clue what you're talking about," the man gritted out, and Mark let out an exasperated sigh.

"Come on, you're under a boot, that could easily crack a rib or two, and you're not gonna talk?" Lesley stayed silent. "Well, I suppose that makes the night more fun for us." Fear flashed in the man's eyes before Jackson's designer shoe came down on his face and knocked him out. "The exit clear?"

"Knocked out the guards out before I came here."

"No one noticed we left so abruptly?"

"Jinyoung's got us covered there."

"Our favours owed to them are piling up."

"Better than risking arrest." Mark nodded in agreement as he watched Jackson carry the unconscious form on his shoulder. Jackson turned his head, giving a soft, small smile. "You ready, darling?"

"With you? For anything."


End file.
